


Parlous

by Tsume_Yuki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Female Harry Potter, Gen, I'm not too sure, Master of Death Harry Potter, Might Become HarryxPeter, for now, just gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-22 10:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Pan is everything wild, the very embodiment of Neverland, he's beautiful in the way that a forest fire is. He's the flames that dance across the woods but burn all in its path, knife sharp smiles and razor wit, he takes what he wants and cares little for the repercussions.</p>
<p>Hariel Potter is the ozone in the atmosphere, the calm eye of the storm, she's striking in the way that a summer tempest is. She's the warning before the strike, the crackle of thunder and the intimidating spark of lightning which thrums through the air. </p>
<p>It shouldn't have been a surprise that they were the only ones who could come to an understanding, and yet, never understand one another at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parlous

 

 

_"I can't stay?"_

_The being, tall, dark and with a black cowl covering its eyes, shadows shielding its face, gave an ever so slow nod._

_Hariel Lillian Potter watched the movement with wide eyes and lips parted ever so slightly, the only indications of the terror, the uncertainty, she felt inside. Voldemort's body laid to rest beneath her feet, a grave she'd personally dug herself, though the marker only indicated a 'Tom' rested in the upturned earth. It felt right to bury him as Tom, because that was what he had started out as, even if Tom had died many years ago._

_Another part of her felt vindictive, knowing that he'd have hated it._

_Now though, the world was frozen around her, and Hariel Potter was intimately aware of the being -unnatural, wrongwrongwrong- that had frozen the world around her. The flesh of her palm, her right palm, throbbed beneath her clenched fingers, pulsated with the presence before her._

_There laid a symbol, a symbol which burnt its way into her skin the second her hand had curled around the Elder Wand, the last Deathly Hallow, for the first and only time._

_It mattered not._

_According to Death, the objects are mere trinkets now, no longer holding any of their power. She has it now, all stored inside that one symbol that will now never leave her skin._

_Never._

_For her skin will never decay, will never strip itself bare to expose the bones beneath, because Death can not harm its master. So with that now confirmed, Hariel Potter grimaced, tongue wetting at her lips before retreating back into her mouth as she readied to speak._

_"Where do I go then?"_

_There was no point in fighting it. One didn't win against Death, Hariel knew that much. Master or not, there were still rules even this force had to answer to, it was the only thing that made sense._

_Slowly, it held out one skeletal hand, the ivory bones gleaming in the dawning sun. It seemed wrong on a fundamental level for Death to be out and about during daylight, if this frozen moment could be classified as daytime at all._

_With once last glance back towards Hogwarts, towards the ruins that her beloved school now la in, Hariel Potter sucked in a deep breath, and took Death's hand in her own, threading their fingers together._

_Faceless as it was, Hariel could still feel the smile it would otherwise be wearing._

 

 

She woke to a sudden shock of cold water. Cold, salty water. Spluttering, Hariel kicked uselessly, forcibly flipping herself over thrice beneath the liquid chill before she finally figured out what was up and what was down. She broke through the surface with a gasp of surprise, hacking ferociously in an attempt to dislodge the saltwater from her lungs, but it seemed to be in vain. She dipped back beneath the waves a second time, throat burning as the seawater invaded her innards once again.

Her palms burnt.

Then, there was an obnoxiously loud bang and for two mercifully short seconds, there was no water anywhere, blasted back by her panic induced magic.

Reaching for that energy again, Hariel pulled and let out a successful gasp when the sea came rushing back in, but failed to touch her. An invisible bubble surrounded her, protection on all sides as she sat within and furiously attempted to empty her lungs.

Her ribs convulsed, quivering under the pressure and an unfortunate amount of vomit seemed quite persistent on joining the sea.

But after an agonisingly long minute spluttering, the witch finally managed to get her breathing back under control, even if her limbs continue to shake like waifs in the wind.

Collapsing back onto the invisible substance that sustained her, Hariel stared up at the cloudless blue sky, sucking in deep breath after deep breath.

She laid there for a several minutes, just enjoying the luxury that was breathing without obstruction from the sea, the sun slowly burning at the back of her eyes. The thick mass of hair she owned, previously plastered to her skull, slowly began to dry out, rising into its habitual mess of tangled curls. Her heaving chest had steadied to something a bit more regular during her rest, a slow rise and fall synchronised with the sea waves.

The scent of salt hung heavy in the air, and Hariel could almost feel it seeping into the fabric of her jeans, the leather of her favourite boots. She needed to get them washed, and fast, before they were ruined for good.

Grumbling, the last Potter stumbled to her feet, frowning over the invisible ball she still resided in. It was perfectly round, the sea water lapping to the left while waves crested against the right hand side of the ball.

Sucking in a slow breath, Hariel slowly manoeuvred to her feet, carefully stepping forwards. The sphere rocked steadily in a mocking intimidate of a hamster ball, leaving Hariel to wobble unsteadily about within the confines of her magic. Moving in this thing was going to be difficult, but swimming to the island she could see in the distance was out of the question, she'd never be able to cover that much water before she ended up falling prey to the saltwater. Again.

She might just be able to apperate the rest of the way though. Line of sight and all that.

Drawing in a slow and steady breath, Hariel focused, truly focused on the three D's, the memories of Ron's splinched form forcing the way to the forefront of her mind with a vengeance.

She did not want to end up like that, not when she didn't have a Hermione here to bail her out.

Taking one last steady breath, Hariel twisted on her heels, disappearing with an ear drum shattering bang and leaving the sea to crash back together as the magical barrier was removed.

 

 

 

A mouthful of sand was what greeted Hariel Lillian Potter when she landed ashore.

Spluttering in surprise, the witch planted both hands firmly in the golden grains, lifting her head up and out of the dirt in order to carefully eye her surroundings. Jungle extended in all directions, if one discounted the sea she'd just come stumbling in from.

Scowling, the Potter drew the sleeve of her sweatshirt across her lips, groaning in annoyance when the action only led to more sand in her mouth. The midday sun was beating down hot on the back of her neck now that she wasn't surrounded by the cold of the sea, and with a long suffering sigh, the witch began to slowly shimmy out of the Weasley sweater, sending a quick cleaning charm to her boots before remembering she no longer possess a wand.

Frowning, the female stared down at the boots, most particularly at the distinct absence of salt and sand upon them. That was right, she had the Elder Wand's power now. Wandless magic?

Pah, if Voldemort could see her now, he'd probably be green with envy.

Low, desperate chuckle escaping her lips, Hariel crawled forwards, shakily placing one leg beneath her and following with the other. She swayed slightly, stood upon the picturesque beach with her worn leather boots sinking slightly into the sand, but the last Potter managed to keep her footing despite an unsteady sway.

Rolling her shoulders back, Hariel gathered the vast mass of red curls up in her hands, pulling the thin bobble from her wrist and wrapping it thrice around her hair to keep the wild mess up in that ponytail.

"Right, here we go."

 

* * *

 

 

There was an intruder. There was an intruder on Neverland.

 

From where he'd been sat atop a tree branch watching over the Lost Boys, Peter Pan froze, cocking his head to a side and listening to the whispers of the island, of his island.

Around him, movements slowed, the leaves halting their dance with the wind, the tree limbs silencing the creaking as he focused.

Of course, the Lost Boys noticed their leader's sudden lack of interest, how could they not when each and every one of them looked to him after every move they made? It didn't matter which two had stepped forwards to wrestle, they all looked to him for guidance. He was their leader, he was the power here in Neverland.

Was it any wonder they looked to him? No, it wasn't.

But regardless, there was an intruder upon his island. One who hadn't been invited, and one who hadn't arrived by portal. He controlled this land, he was Neverland and Neverland was him. Nothing happened here without his say so, he held the power over this island.

So why was there something new? Something unexpected?

"Stay here."

Rising into the air, The Pan let the magic currents, the currents that powered Neverland and allowed it to run upon imagination, his imagination, guide him towards the intruder. He veered west, soaring over the treetops of the jungle, a frown lingering on his lips.

There was no magic in the air that let him know a portal had been opened, the Shadow hadn't returned with a new boy, and he certainly hadn't let anyone new join them.

So the question was, how had this intruder got here?

For a moment, he toyed with the idea that perhaps the Heart of the Truest Believer had come to him of their own accord. But no, that was so very doubtful, so far outside the realm of possibilities that he scrapped the idea. Shadow would bring them to him soon enough.

 

 

 

Touching down on one of the biggest trees, The Pan laid one hand carefully against the bark, silent as he pulled the tree leaves around him to cover his form. The branches answered his call eagerly, slowly slithering about until he was hidden from sight, but quite capable of seeing the intruder for himself.

She -and it was a she, it had been centuries but he still remembered how older females looked- was a mess of red hair, that much was clear. Even gathered up in a ponytail, it twisted, as wild and free as Neverland itself, a riot of ruby. It was a particularly fanciful colour, one he'd not seen on a human head for a long time.

No doubt men had long since been eyeing her up. That was what had him pausing though.

Because she was not a child.

Yet, his innate instincts told him she was not quite an adult yet either.

No, just toeing that dangerous line between childhood and adulthood. Her body was almost that of an adults, but he could feel the mind beneath, desperately trying to reach out, to grasp at the childhood that'd never been quite there.

She still had the same feel as the Lost Boys. The unloved, the unwanted.

It was the kind of thing that clung to a person, that lingered deep at the core. It was the kind of wound that'd didn't leave. The kind that couldn't be healed and would just scar over, a constant reminder that no matter how put together one may seem, they were still just a little broken.

She was right on the cusp.

But, she was also a girl.

Frowning, The Pan crouched a bit lower into the tree, eyes narrowed as the girl paused, twisting slowly to look over to his direction.

Bright green eyes, every bit as vibrant at the hair atop her temples, narrowed dangerously.  

Perhaps the most interesting thing though was the scarring that covered the top half of her head. Striking down from the upper right of her forehead, a continuous scar stretched down, branching off and crossing over her eyelids like the crack of thunder and lightning in the sky. She donned lightning across her face, and the cicatrix only forced her eyes to stand out that much more.

Question was, had she actually sensed him?

Reaching out with the powers of Neverland, The Pan felt the furious force of the girl's magic wash over him with the strength of a tidal wave, as strong as the powers that ran through his own veins.

So, perhaps she could stay for a little bit. He needed a new game, a new player, anyway. Someone new to toy with.

The girl just stood, staring up at Neverland with her hands upon her hips and a mightily heroic look upon her face. As if Neverland was some beast to be tackled and conquered.

She wasn't wrong there.

Smirking slightly, The Pan leant against the trunk of the tree supporting his weight, watching the female watch the birds pass by. Her lips pursed, eyes narrowing and the lightning surrounding them crackling as the skin shifted. So much more interesting than Felix's scar; to think he'd once thought that the boy appeared more intimidating with that simple thing.

With a smirk, The Pan twisted slightly in the tree, allowing Neverland to silence his movements as he stalked after the girl who wore lightning like war paint.

 

* * *

 

 

Lips pursed, Hariel stilled in the clearing, bending down to brush her fingers through the uneven earth. Very, very faint footprints. So, there were other humans here after all.

She did have to wonder though, what poor souls had ended up in this place, what they'd done to deserve to be placed here, to never age, to live while everyone around them dies.

Threading her fingers together, Hariel frowned when her stomach made itself known, a low, rumbling growl that almost had her midsection shaking with the noise. Pressing her fingertips down onto the hard muscle that rested beneath the flesh -a year on the run was damn good exercise apparently- Hariel tried throwing her mind back, tried to remember just what she'd last eaten. When had she last eaten?

The Battle of Hogwarts had gone on all night, and she'd been too shocked, too shaken, to eat anything since it was over. She'd not eaten in well over twenty four hours.

It only took another quick scan of the clearing to spot a collection of bramble bushes, and a quick poison identification spell -recast thrice to make sure she actually got it to work right- before Hariel was silencing her whimpering stomach.

Worrying her bottom lip back and forth and with the taste of blackberries still heavy on her tongue, Hariel took another glance around the clearing, and finally figured out why she felt like she was being watched. Because she was.

"You can come out, I know you're there."

There was a stillness in the clearing then, the leaves seemed to still in anticipation and Hariel felt her fingers involuntarily curl inwards, the knuckles of her fist whitening under the pressure.

 

And then, there was a head, poking out from between the leaves of a nearby tree. A head covered in messy -the artful kind of messy, controlled chaos, nothing like her own wild curls- golden brown hair.

 

Taking a cautious step back, Hariel raised both arms before her, fingers sprawled and magic brimming beneath her skin, gathering around the scars on her palms.

"Whoa there, no need to come up magic blazing."

Slowly lowering her palms, but not quite removing them from where they were aimed at the male, Hariel raised an eyebrow, frowning as she did so.

"Who are you?"

"Peter. Peter Pan. And this, is Neverland." The silent, _my home, my kingdom_ , tacked onto the end of that sentence had Hariel stiffening slightly.

The boy, Peter Pan, seemed to notice it, because a smile bloomed across his face, knife sharp. With the dark shadows that seemed to pass over the hollows of his eyes, it was exactly the kind of expression she knew to be wary of.

"Alright, and what are the rules of this place?"

The boy raised a brow, perfectly arched while it's twin laid flat beside it. Right, so his face was reasonably pleasing.

"There are no rules," the boy answered smugly, throwing his arms out and open, carnassial grin spreading across his face at the motion, "not here."

He slowly floated to the floor, landing just a few feet before Hariel and looking perfectly at ease, arms clasped behind his back. She could read between the lines, had seen the same behaviour from a teenaged Tom Riddle.

He stalked about as if he were the most dangerous thing in this place, as if he were the predator and all before him were prey.

Hariel's chin jutted out at that observation, feeling the same fierce emotion run though her when she'd first face down Tom Riddle. She knew how to deal with boys like this one. She couldn't die now, couldn't be killed. And there were no friends, no family, for this 'Peter Pan' to attack, to threaten.

He had no leverage on her.

"And you're in charge?" Hariel asked, cocking her head to a side, hair spilling over her shoulder.

Pan's eyes followed the movement for a second, before the dark glass greens darted back up to meet her gaze, smile flint.

"I am. We don't normally let girls into Neverland, but… You feel like them. Like the rest of the Lost Boys. Unloved, unwanted, used. You've not had a childhood, have you?"

Pan's face looked inquisitive, but Hariel could read between the lines, had seen the act before.

She'd watched a young teenaged Tom Riddle pull the strings, had been the puppet more than once. But she still couldn't stop herself from listening to the boy's words, because he was right.

She hadn't had a childhood.

"It's all in the eyes," Pan casually explained, gesturing to his own face, "but you can stay, you can have a childhood with us. Don't you want to spend some time with people that can understand?"

 

And really, what other option was there for her now?


End file.
